


Soldier Boy

by nsyncgrrl



Category: Music RPF, NSYNC, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Vietnam, Angst, M/M, Slash, Wartime Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:00:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsyncgrrl/pseuds/nsyncgrrl
Summary: Set during the Vietnam War, this story was my first AU and still holds a special place in my heart. Lance and Justin are both soldiers in the US Army, stationed outside of Saigon.This has been rewritten and released as a free story published under my real name, J.M. Snyder. But this is the original.
Relationships: Lance Bass/Justin Timberlake
Kudos: 1





	Soldier Boy

I have his initials tattooed in a heart on my right arm. When I drink, I roll up the sleeves of my white t-shirt and I know people want to ask about those three little letters. _JRT._ I know they want to ask me if it's my girl back home, or some chick I fucked in Saigon, but they never ask. I think there's something in the way I sit at the bar, hunched into myself, that keeps them at bay. Or maybe it's the glazed look in my eyes. I've seen myself in the mirror, stared into those crystalline eyes and wondered who the hell replaced them with glass beads, lifeless and dead like doll eyes. I look deeper into them and see my hands, covered in his blood. I remember that evening as if it was yesterday, his body so cold in my arms, so heavy. His skin so pale, his eyes sparkling like a sea of pain, his blood ... his blood covering me.

 _JRT._ Those three little letters carved forever on my heart of stone.

* * * *

The moment I met him, I fell in love. He was a few years younger than me, and his face still held an innocence about it that I knew the war would destroy, but I loved the way he clung to his childhood fiercely. He slept with an old teddy bear at night, and he carried a rabbit's foot dyed a dark blue that matched his mercurial eyes. When he was assigned to my company, I wanted to be his friend. I wanted to be more than that -- I wanted to be the world to him -- but I would be satisfied with friendship, if that was all I could get. I just knew I needed that boy in my life. He had a smile like quicksilver and hair like coils of golden wire. I wanted to plunge my hands into those curls; I wanted to capture that smile for myself alone. His name was Justin, but this was the army and we all called him Timberlake. I loved the sound of his name.

I remember the first time I spoke to him. It was shortly after he had arrived with the latest wave of soldiers, hope in his eyes that we might still win this damn war. He stood in the line at the mess tent, humming to himself, and I bumped my tray into his back gently to get his attention. The humming stopped and he turned around. "Timberlake," I said, reading the name on his fatigues. "You new to 'Nam?"

He nodded. "Is it Bass like the fish?" he asked, meaning my name. "Or Bass like the sound?"

I sang a line from the Shirelles' hit song, "Soldier Boy," my deep voice low. "Soldier boy, oh my little soldier boy, I'll be true to you."

He grinned, and sang along. "You were my first love, and you'll be my last love --" His voice was angelic and soulful, and the way he scrunched up his eyebrows as the words moved through him made my throat dry up with lust. "You sing too?" he asked.

I nodded. "But it's Bass, like the fish," I said. "Lance Bass, first lieutenant." I shifted my tray in my arms so I could offer him my hand to shake.

His grip was sure and warm. "Justin Timberlake," he replied. "Where'd you do your boot camp?"

"Fort Dix, New Jersey," I said. "You?"

"Fort Bragg," he said, grimacing. "North Carolina. Not a fun place to be."

I laughed at that. "And Vietnam is?"

"Maybe," he said, shrugging. "How long you been here?"

"Too long," I replied. My tour was up in five months, but I thought I might be dead by then. Why not? Half the boys I came over with were already home in caskets. I knew it was just a matter of time before I joined them. "You have a girl back home waiting for you to return?"

"Not really," he said, looking away.

"Me either," I whispered, catching his eye. I stared at him intently, hoping he got my point.

A slow grin spread across his face like sunshine. "Sometimes it gets lonely out here, I imagine," he said.

"It does," I agreed. "If you don't have anyone, it can drive you insane."

"Well, then," he said, winking at me, "I'm glad we met, Lt. Bass. I don't want to go home crazy."

I grinned at him. I didn't want him to go home at all, not without me.

* * * *

We had to be careful. It may have been the days of free love and open minds, but the world still didn't accept two men who found comfort in each others' arms. When we weren't on duty, we'd sneak off into the brush of the countryside, careful of the mines and the enemy snipers. Mostly we managed to get together at night, slipping away from the camp to lie in the tall grasses and cuddle beneath the stars. I remember the first night I ever kissed him. If I close my eyes I can still see the way the starlight played off of his curls and sparkled in his eyes. I can still hear his breathless voice, singing softly as we sat side by side on a hill overlooking the camp. I can still remember the musky scent of his cologne, the feel of his hand in mine, the way his skin felt so soft and pliant beneath my fingers. "Justin," I whispered, interrupting his song.

"Hmm?" he asked, turning towards me. It had been a week since we met, and I knew I was falling for him. I knew I was in love.

I looked at his boyish face, his careless curls, and as I leaned forward, I heard the slight intake of his baited breath. I closed my eyes as my lips brushed his with the gentlest of touches -- I had never kissed a boy before. Back home in Mississippi, one didn't talk about being gay. One didn't mention that he liked other guys. And when I joined the army, I kept my secret hidden from those around me. But I couldn't deny the way I felt about Justin, the way my arms ached to hold him, the way he crept into my dreams like a succubus. When he didn't pull away from me, I leaned in again, my lips more insistent this time, demanding on his. I never knew such chapped lips could be so soft or taste so sweet.

"Lance," he whispered, his hand tracing the curve of my cheek. He leaned into the kiss, his lips parting mine as his tongue licked into my mouth, trepidatious and tentative. I sighed as I pushed him back into the tall grass, hungry for him. My hands rubbed his arms, so strong beneath my touch, and I laid down on top of him, aroused by his tender kisses, his gentle touches. He hugged me to him, our hard erections pressed against each other, and when his hands cupped my buttocks, I laughed softly. He squeezed my ass and grinned. "They lied to me," he whispered.

"Who?" I asked. I leaned over him and ran a hand through those unruly curls, brushing them back from his forehead.

He looked at me with those deep blue eyes and said, "Everyone back home. They said I'd hate it here. They said it would be the worst tour of duty I'd ever have to live through. They didn't know I'd find you."

"I could fall in love with you if I'm not careful," I said, kissing the soft skin of his forehead.

He kissed my chin, his tongue licking out to taste my cheek. "Don't be careful, then," he said. "Be reckless and wild, and fall head over heels for me. Love me like you'll never let me go."

My lips found his again. "Maybe I won't," I replied. I knew I never would.

* * * *

My bunkmate was our company captain, a likable fellow from Brooklyn named Joseph Fatone, Jr., but we all called him Joey. He had a thing for Superman, even going so far as to wear a t-shirt emblazoned with the Man of Steel's logo beneath his regulation fatigues. He was a hellacious flirt, always with a different nurse every night, going into Saigon and sometimes as far away as Pleikku to party when he was on leave. He had pictures of a dozen different girls from back home, and knew the names of twenty or more prostitutes who saved a spot for him in their beds at night. Joey had laughing eyes and a devilish grin that made all the women swoon. A few times I had left him alone in the barracks we shared, sleeping at the officer's club so he could have the place to himself and the current date du jour. We were close friends, Joey and I, but I was still uncomfortable asking him if I could have the room one night when I wanted to make love to Justin for the first time. In our room I found Joey sitting on his bed, reading yet another love letter. Joey was never passed up during mail call. "Hey Joey," I said, sitting down on my bed across from him.

He looked up from the pale pink paper in his hand, a grin already on his face. "Hey Lance," he said, holding out a picture. It was of a pretty, light-haired girl, and she wore nothing but the bottom half of a two-piece swimsuit. Her hands cupped large breasts, covering the nipples, and her face held the hint of a tease in it. "Sabrina," Joey said, laughing. "I knew her in high school. She's really grown up pretty, don't you think?"

I shrugged. "She's nice looking," I said, handing the picture back to him.

Joey frowned at me. "Something bothering you, Scoop?" he asked. It was a nickname of mine that he gave me years ago, since I always knew the latest news in our detachment.

"Maybe," I said, suddenly unsure of what to say. I wanted to tell him about Justin -- I wanted to tell somebody, wanted to shout it from the treetops and let this war-torn world know that I was desperately in love and insanely happy in the midst of the horrid conflict. But I didn't know how to tell Joey, who loved women, that I loved another man. I didn't want him to freak out on me, or call me on it. I didn't want to get sent home dishonorably. I was needed here in 'Nam, and as long as Justin was here, I wanted to stay.

"You can tell me," he said, setting the letter aside to give me his undivided attention. "C'mon, Lance. I've known you for years now. You can talk to me."

I bit my lip, debating on how to start. Finally I asked, "Can I have the room tonight? I mean, if you don't mind --"

To my surprise, Joey laughed. "Sure," he said, grinning wickedly. "Who's the lucky girl? That redhead nurse who's been giving you the eye since we got here?" I shook my head. "That brunette in the ER? What's her name? Marie?"

"It's not one of the nurses," I said evasively. I couldn't meet his eye.

When Joey spoke again, his voice was hushed. "It's that soldier boy, isn't it?" he asked, and I jumped, startled. "What's his name? Timberlake?"

"Is it that obvious?" I whispered, suddenly afraid.

Joey placed a hand on my knee, and I looked up to see compassion and understanding in his warm brown eyes. "I've known you since boot camp, Scoop," he said softly. "We've partied together for four years now. I've always suspected you ..." He shrugged. "I sort of thought you might like guys."

"And you're okay with that?" I asked.

He shrugged again. "Whatever floats your boat, Scoop. You're my friend regardless. And I ain't gonna turn you in. Shit, who else would put up with me the way you do?" He grinned at me in that way he had that crinkled his eyes into half-moons and made him look like a little boy. "You want the room tonight? It's yours. I'll stay over with Allison. You know, the girl with the black curls and the legs up to her chin?"

I smiled, relieved. "Thanks, Joey," I said. "You swear not to tell anyone about this?"

He held up his hand. "Scout's honor," he replied. Then he leaned down and pulled his foot locker out from beneath the bed. "You need some condoms? I got plenty." He opened the foot locker and grabbed a handful of tiny square packages. Tossing them at me, he winked and said, "You'll need the lubricated kind, I'm sure. Rock his world, Scoop. You deserve it."

I felt my cheeks heat up, but I didn't give the condoms back. I planned on using them all.

* * * *

Justin came to my room that night dressed in his green fatigues and a white t-shirt, his peaked folding cap hiding those kinky curls of his that I loved so much. He looked around my room, his eyes wide, taking in everything at once. As he stepped into the room, I locked the door behind him. "You have a roommate?" he asked, nodding at the twin beds.

"Captain Fatone," I said. "You knew that."

Justin nodded nervously. "Where is he?"

Placing an arm around Justin's shoulders, I leaned close and whispered in his ear, "He's not staying here tonight. We have the room to ourselves." I kissed the tender skin of his cheek and murmured, "So relax, baby. It's just the two of us tonight."

I felt his arm slip around my waist, and then his lips were on my neck, sucking gently. I closed my eyes and moaned softly, savoring the warm dampness of his mouth on my skin. "Justin," I whispered, slipping the hat off of his head to entwine my fingers in his hair. He trailed little kisses along my neck until his lips found mine. I led him to my bed, the covers already pulled down, and as I sat on the edge of the bed I tugged his t-shirt out of his pants, my fingers fumbling with the belt buckle. I looked up at him, his wide eyes staring down at me like the night sky, and I smiled easily. "I love you, Justin, and I want to make love to you. If you will let me."

His eyes watered, his hands cradling my face. As he leaned down, kissing me gently, I tugged his pants down past his knees. My fingers brushed across the front of his olive green briefs, feeling his hard erection confined in the tight fabric, and he moaned into my mouth, his knees buckling slightly. I ran my hands around his waist, and when he pushed me back to the bed, I pulled his briefs down and cupped the soft, supple flesh of his buttocks. He straddled me, a knee on either side of my legs, and I felt his hands roam down my chest. He pinched my nipples through the thin material of my t-shirt, eliciting a moan from me. Kissing my throat, he eased his hands beneath my shirt, his touch cool against my heated flesh. I slipped his shirt off over his head and rolled onto him, pressing him back against the bed. I kissed his pink nipples until they stood erect beneath my tongue, and then I licked down the muscles of his flat stomach. He moaned my name and grabbed fistfuls of my thick hair as my lips kissed the tip of his swollen cock. I took him in my mouth, my tongue tracing around the length of his thick shaft. He gasped above me and thrust into me as I massaged him with my lips. I undid my own belt and kicked off my pants, my briefs following suit, as I kept him in my mouth. "Lance," he whispered. "Oh sweet Jesus, Lance, please."

I stood back long enough to pull off my shirt, and then I laid down beside him on the bed, our naked bodies pressing together so perfectly. My hand encircled his throbbing erection, squeezing gently, as I kissed his lips hungrily. Joey's condoms were on my bedstand, and I reached for one blindly, knocking half of them to the floor in my haste. Quickly I tore open the small packet, my fingers growing slick with lubricant. "You want to do the honors?" I asked, grinning at him.

Justin took the condom from me and unrolled it down over my own hard erection. My fingers slipped beneath his balls, sliding into the hot closeness that was him. He laid back on the bed, eyes closed, lips parted, and I kissed him as I eased my fingers deeper inside of him, stretching him wider. His hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me onto him, and I guided myself into him, moaning. He was so tight and hot and I found myself sucked inside, his muscles working with me as I thrust into him. I kissed his cheeks, smoothing away any discomfort, any pain. I whispered his name over and over again with every thrust of my hips, driving me deeper into him. When he came, his juices sticky between us, he bit my shoulder, his teeth sinking easily into my flesh. I cried out his name as my own orgasm tore through me, and when it was over I held him in my arms and whispered "I love you" until we both fell asleep.

* * * *

I got the tattoo of his initials in Saigon when we managed to snag a few days' leave together. Joey was to thank for that. We shacked up in a tiny hotel room that smelled of fish sauce and burnt rice, in a narrow bed that barely fit us both. We would lie awake in that bed, arms around each other, and watch the stars sparkle in the night sky through the one bare window. The sounds of the city would drift over us, and Justin would sigh and snuggle closer to me, his head against my chest, his curls tickling my chin. "There's Orion," he said, pointing at the trio of stars that formed the middle of the constellation. "That's the only constellation I know."

"It looks the same here as it does back home," I whispered, running a hand over his hair. My fingers twisted into his curls and I thought of returning home with Justin once this tour was through.

"What will you do when the war's over?" Justin asked, his voice quiet, and I sighed. I didn't have the heart to tell him that for most of our boys here, the war would never be over.

But we were alone, together, and the war didn't exist in this small hotel room, not for us. We could hear shells burst outside, feel the walls shake when the bombs came too close to the city, but it wasn't real, not tonight. Tonight the only thing that mattered to me was Justin in my arms and the sky stretching away above us like a promise. So I closed my eyes and wished on the brightest star in Orion's belt that the war would be over soon, and Justin and I could be together forever. "I see us in a large house," I whispered, and Justin's arms tightened around me. "Lots of grass, and --"

"No trees," Justin said suddenly. "I've seen enough trees in this damn country to last me a lifetime."

"Okay," I said, smiling. "No trees. Dogs?"

"I love dogs," Justin admitted, nodding. "Big dogs, too. And we can have a studio in the house, where we can sing together and maybe one day we'll hit it big, put out a record ... what do you think?"

I laughed softly. "It's our dream," I said. "We can make it whatever we want."

Justin raised his head and looked at me, his blue eyes intense and serious. "I want you," he said, his finger tracing the curve of my chin. "That's all. As long as you're with me, life will be a dream come true."

I kissed his finger. "Then I promise to stay with you always, and the dream will last forever."

"Are you promising me forever?" he whispered, his eyes shining brightly.

"Yes," I replied. I watched the emotions flicker across his face, and then his smile lit up the night.

"Here's to forever, then," he said, his lips catching mine in a breathless kiss.

* * * *

But nothing lasts forever. Not love, not dreams, not life. The only things that may last forever are this damn war and the ache inside of me where my heart once beat. There was a large supply drop just north of our encampment, and I was chosen to lead a patrol to retrieve it. In the late afternoon sun, my men fanned out behind me, keeping to the trees and the dense underbrush, the only sounds the rustling leaves as if we were wind blowing through the forests. There had been reports of enemy activity in the area so we kept close to the ground, moving in small units of two or three men, keeping the talk amongst ourselves low and sparse. When we spotted the supply drop, I called for a halt, and we sat in the growing dusk, waiting for the cover of darkness to retrieve our supplies. We kept our ears sharp, our eyes focused, the tension running through our unit like electric current through a wire. I knew they were out there, just beyond our reach -- I could sense them, watching us, sizing up the fight in us. I knew they were going to strike and I wanted more than anything else to be ready for them.

Circling the patrol, I found Justin with a friend of his, a boy his own age named Carter. Nick Carter. As I approached, the boy stared at me with large eyes glazed over with fear. "Timberlake," I hissed, nodding for him to join me. He grinned at his friend and crawled over to my position. Placing my lips against his ear, I whispered, "Be ready to run if the enemy engages us."

"I'm not leaving you," he replied, his voice like silk in my ear.

"We'll meet up again," I promised him. His hand rested on my knee, comforting and warm in the hot still air. "I'll find you. Just stay low to the ground, and stay safe. Promise me you'll stay safe." I didn't want him here. I knew it was war and he was a soldier, but I wanted him a million miles away, waiting on the homefront for me to return. I didn't want to lose him now that I finally found him.

"I promise," he whispered. Nodding out at the open field, where the bundle of supplies waited for us, he asked, "We going in soon?"

I frowned. There was something wrong about the whole setup, I could sense it. "In a minute," I replied, distracted. I touched his arm and listened, but all I heard was an eerie quiet that cut into my soul and filled me with unease. "When it gets darker --"

Without warning, the world exploded in front of us. Dirt and stones erupted as a shell landed mere feet away, and I pushed Justin back, covering him with my own body. His friend stood up -- _Carter,_ my mind screamed at me as I saw the name on his chest, a name I will never forget -- and then he was gone. All that remained was a pair of bloody boots and a discarded machine gun, tossed aside like a child's toy. Beneath me Justin screamed, struggling to stand, but I held him down. Bullets whizzed above us like bees, and around us men were yelling curses and firing blindly. "Stay down!" I cried, but no one listened. I watched helplessly as men tried to run and were cut down like weeds. _My_ men, _American_ men, nothing but _boys,_ really. Justin wiggled out from under me, but I clung to his legs, keeping him down.

"Lance!" he cried, twisting in my grip. I saw the fear in his eyes, smudges of blood on his cheeks, his skin white as porcelain. He tugged at my arm, trying to pull me along with him, out of the line of fire. "Jesus, Lance, we have to leave. Call a retreat! Call a --"

But it was too late. Most of my men were dead or dying. I heard the radio tech calling in a mayday, yelling out our coordinates into the frenzy around us, but it was too late. "Justin, please," I sobbed, holding him down.

Another shell exploded, inches from my feet, and Justin sat up, pulling on my arms. "Lance, come on," he pleaded, his eyes trying to look everywhere at once. The enemy was well hidden, using the terrain to hide themselves, and we never stood a chance. As I watched Justin reach for his M-14, a stray bullet caught him in the chest, throwing him back.

"Justin?" I asked, crawling over top of him for the last time. He gasped for breath, his hands fluttering over his heart like butterflies, weak and dying. He stared into the sky, his throat working convulsively, and as I tore open his shirt, I saw redness blossoming across his white t-shirt, his lifeblood seeping away. "Justin, no," I cried, pressing my hands to the wound. My elbows locked as I tried to stop the flow of blood. "Justin --"

"Lance," he whispered, and despite the noise and confusion swirling around me, I heard his soft voice as if it were the only sound in the world. His hand caught one of mine, and I leaned down over him, brushing the curls back from his brow. His blood left a sticky trail wherever my fingers touched him, and I blinked back tears that threatened to fall.

"I'm here, Justin," I whispered. The war was gone, the enemy gone, my other men -- all gone. Only Justin existed, but with each shaky breath he took, I knew he was fading away. And soon there would be nothing left. Nothing at all. "Oh God, Justin, please."

"I love you," he replied. His eyes took on a faraway shine as if he were looking on a distant horizon that I couldn't see. "Forever, Lance. Forever."

I closed my eyes and wept as he left me in that bloody field, his body cold in my arms, his blood staining my hands. Forever.

* * * *

I don't remember how I made it back to the encampment. I don't remember Joey helping me into my bed. I don't remember anything but those bloodied curls, those lifeless eyes, those pouty lips that would never say my name again.

Somehow Joey managed to give me Justin's dogtags. He said that there was no family to send them back to, and that I deserved them. I wear them around my neck with my own, a constant reminder of the one man I promised forever to. When the nights get too bad I lose myself in drink and finger the tags and remember the way it felt to hold him in my arms, the way it felt to make love to him, the way it felt when he was alive and smiling at me, or singing to me, or just breathing beside me.

I look at his initials on my arm and know that I'll love him forever. I know that he's somewhere out there, waiting. Forever.


End file.
